


The Perks Of Being An Introvert

by Nicky



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: BBC Sherlock References, F/M, Fluff, Juvia makes a cameo, Late Night Conversations, Mystic Messenger references, One Shot, Romance, you don't have to know that stuff to enjoy the story tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 17:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9834929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicky/pseuds/Nicky
Summary: Every introvert knows that parties are hell and bathrooms are sanctuaries. Gajeel is hiding in one of them when a little bookworm decides to join him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written as a present for a friend, but he liked it so much that I decided to publish it.

The music is loud, loud enough to perfectly make out the lyrics from outside the house. But Gajeel has promised he would be here so here he is. Juvia is bouncing with excitement at his side so that makes up for the discomfort, he guesses.

“You sure that kid ya like is in here, aren’t ya?”

“I’m _positive_ , Gajeel-kun! Gray-sama posted an Instagram pic in this house just an hour ago!”

“Stalker,” Gajeel says, but Juvia goes happily oblivious to his words.

A big-titted blonde opens the door for them and welcomes Juvia like they are old friends. Gajeel cannot help but wonder where the fuck Juvia managed to befriend such a rich person because ‘house’ is not a good word for this place. No, motherfucking _mansion_ , borderline _castle_ suits it better. It has marble floors, white marvel staircases, a crystal chandelier brought straight out of Tiffany’s and every single cliché you’ve ever seen on movies. There were shrubs statues on the front lawn, for crying out loud.

Of course, it is also stuffed with drunken young adults. The lights are low and the smell of alcohol is so strong in the air it could give you a headache. Bets that Juvia won’t last here an hour before derailing.

“This is so fun, isn’t it?” Juvia screams once they sink into the noise. She starts jumping and dancing off-key with Avicii.

“I’m not going to dance.” He is also not shouting. No thank you. Juvia can hear him well-enough like this or not hear him at all.

She must read his lips because she pouts.

“Oh come on! Have fun with Juvia!” She tries to sway him and has as much success as she would with a brick wall. “You are so boring!”

Gajeel shrugs. He doesn’t mind being called boring. He only came here because he doesn’t like the idea of Juvia returning home alone at night. But the one and only reason he willingly got himself into this pool of noise and people suddenly perks up, face bright.

“That’s Gray-sama!” she says, looking somewhere over his shoulder, and fast as lightening disappears from his side.

“The fuck, Juvia wait!” But it’s too late. The tides of people ebb in and out and in a second he has lost her.

After searching for Juvia pretty much everywhere with no results, Gajeel ends up pouring himself a shot of tequila because alone, in a rambunctious party where he knows absolutely no one, is far away out of his comfort zone. He finds a decent sofa in a corner of one of the living rooms – yes, _one_ , because this place has at least three different rooms that could be called _living rooms_ – and makes himself at home there.

Juvia has the keys of the car and she has disappeared God knows where. He doesn’t know how to drive anyway, but it is nice to imagine he could get out of here if circumstances were different.

He is bored.

Gajeel could be in his house right now. He could be at his computer, watching Netflix. He could be working out. Yes, at two in the morning he could be working out in his house and he would do it gladly instead of being submerged in this sea of intoxicated people and electronic music. He yearns for his silent garage where it’s just him with his engines, and Lily every once in a while.

Boredom becomes discomfort and it weights down on him. Soon enough, that ugly, choking sensation Gajeel already knows too well and has learnt to loathe makes itself present. It’s the noise. It’s the _people_ , and the music, and the shouts and flashing lights and heat and fuck, _so much people..._

His legs move on their own, taking him out of that sofa and in search of a bathroom. The first one he finds is locked. The second door he knocks on has no response other than sex sounds coming from the other side. He keeps walking, up the stairs this time. People avoid his broad frame or at least, the most sober ones do and those who don’t get shoved aside. Gajeel is not in a nice mood.

Finally, he finds one door that yields when he presses on the handle. He opens up, eager to escape the headache and when the door closes behind him-

Silence.

Finally.

Gajeel inhales deeply, the air truly reaching his lungs for the first time in hours. Of course, it’s not perfect. Not as silent as he would like; the noise still seeps in, albeit muffled. But it’s good enough and good enough is all Gajeel needs. He sits against the bathtub and takes out his phone. Looks like it’ll be Candy Crush till sunrise. Or until Juvia texts him to go home. Either one is fine with him now that he’s not surrounded by people anymore.

He has won four levels in a row and started his fifth when the door suddenly opens. Startled, he snaps his head up and finds a little blue-haired girl at the door.

“The fuck?” he says.

“Oh!” She seems to startle too. “I’m so sorry, I should have knocked!”

“It’s okay,” he grumbles. “Was just leaving.”

He figures he won’t hoard the bathroom if this girl needs to use it. He can find another one to spend the night. Or maybe try again out there, see how socializing works for him this time.

Yeah, nah.

“Wait,” she says before he can stand up, face lightened up with a smile of recognition. “Were you having an introversion crisis?”

Gajeel does stop his movements, surprised by her words. “A _what_ now? _”_

Girly shrugs, suddenly unsure. “That’s what I call them.” And when he doesn’t answer she elaborates, faster this time. “You, you know! Locking yourself up in a bathroom or... or a room or whatever you find in order not to deal with people. That stuff.”

Gajeel scowls. “How would you know that?”

“I mean, you are just sitting there.” She points vaguely with her hand to the space on the floor where he is. “And playing with your phone. And not doing anything you usually do at a bathroom.”

He looks around instinctively and realizes she’s right. He must paint an odd picture. Introversion crisis? He has never heard that term before. But then again, she did say she had made it up.

“I’m not saying it’s something bad!” she adds hurriedly, mistaking his silence for annoyance. “It happens to me too! That sensation... like your skin prickles and you are drowning among the people. Sometimes, I even get a little bit panicky because of it. It’s are awful, isn’t it?”

Gajeel is reluctant to answer. The girl’s words hit pretty close home. He never thought someone else would feel like he did, and he doesn’t know what to do with this information. A confirmation would taste like weakness – because it _is_ a weakness, being unable to keep his shit together in situations like these – but denying it would be lying, so he keeps his mouth shut. Maybe she’ll go away if he keeps quite.

But unfortunately, his bitch face – which usually success at keeping people at a healthy distance – doesn’t seem to affect this girl at all.

“Mind if I seat with you?” she asks, dauntless, no survival instincts whatsoever. “There’s no other free bathroom at the mansion. I’ve already checked them all.”

She is way too open and trusting, Gajeel notes. Bold too, to assume so much about him without him giving any sort of confirmation to her hypothesis. She’s not ugly either. The purplish tuff of hair is an adorable bird’s nest, and it makes him want to ruffle it for some reason. He is not sure why his brain decided to focus in this particular piece of information but here we are.

“Ya sure ‘re brave, girl.” His lips shape into his custom smirk. “How are you so sure that I am here because of that ‘introvert crisis’ you preach about?”

“You just.” She pauses for a second. “You just have that vibe, I guess.”

He raises one eyebrow. She huffs.

“Okay, so _maybe_ I’m into Sherlock and _maybe_ I tried to implement the deducting method, okay?!”

Shit, she’s into Sherlock too.

Since he understands where she’s coming from, he’s not prone to deny her. Out there is hell, and he can perfectly relate to the sensation she has just described. He wouldn’t mind the company either as long as she doesn’t pry. But he feels like teasing, because he wouldn’t be Gajeel Redfox otherwise.

“What if I’m here waiting for a little thing like you to show up drunk and take advantage of her?”

She doesn’t seem to find this funny though. “If you don’t want me here you just have to say so.”

As she turns around, about to leave, Gajeel experiences a micro-second long dilemma. Does he keep his head high and let this chick go? Or does he swallow his ego and invite her in into his cosy, white ceramic new home? A girl he just met isn’t worth his pride, a part of him says. But then again, she does seem interesting and mellow enough to establish a nice conversation. Something other than stupid phone games that would help him keep afloat for the rest of the night.

Besides, now that she has turns around Gajeel can see that yep, to add to the list of attractive traits, she has a _very nice_ backside too.

“Oi, shrimp,” he calls. “You can stay if you want to.”

It works. She stops and looks back, incredulous. Good, he stopped her but he didn’t lose his teasing edge. He gives himself a mental pat in the back. Life is about compromise.

 “What did you just call me?”

Her indignation feeds his snickers. Annoying her is fun, he decides. He’ll do it more often. He’d like to get to know her more, so to make amends he shows his palms in surrender.

“Hey, I don’t know yer name and you gotta admit, ye were not blessed on the height department.”

She considers him, biting her inner chick. Seeing her reluctance, he decides to give her another little nudge.

“We can resist the _introversion crisis_ together, if you feel like it,” he says, remembering the name she used. “We can even talk about Sherlock, if ya feel like it. I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.” He winks, but also moves to the left and pats the spot by his side, to emphasise his point.

She huffs, nonchalant. “Your teeth aren’t sharp enough to scare me,” before closing the door and moving closer to sit by his side, and that’s what cements Gajeel’s first impulse. Yeah, this one is worth the time.

“You are the witty type, huh?”

“And I see you are the jerk type.”

Gajeel chuckles, unaffected. “You accepted to spend time with this jerk so what does that say about you?”

“It’s not so much what it says about me but what it says about the situation.” Shorty looks ahead of her, to the door that guards their sanctuary. “I weighed down my options and you were much more appealing than _that_.”

Fixing his gaze on the door too, Gajeel can’t help the empathy that strikes him. “Should I take that as a compliment, shrimp?”

“It’s Levy, by the way.”

“Huh?”

“Levy is my name. You are free to use it, so you don’t need to call me _shrimp_ anymore.”

The nickname comes out awry through her lips, like someone who picks up a fetid handkerchief with index and forefinger. Which of course, gives him enough reasons not to drop it. His smirk shows his sharp teeth and all of his amusement.

“Who says I do it cause I need to? Shrimp has a nice ring to it.”

She stares.

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“A good start, I see.”

“Having second thoughts? You are free to retire.”

He gestures towards the door. He’d like to see if she will go through with it or not. And she seems to consider it, at least for a second. He can almost read her mind: wouldn’t it be easier to just find another secure place to hide, instead of spending the time with a dude she doesn’t even know, and who apparently has too much of asshole in him?

But he must have underestimated her, because she shrugs it off with a smile Gajeel can’t quite interpret.

“No,” she says, simply.

And this unexpected answer confuses Gajeel.

Does she not know better? She might fool you with the small frame and young face, but two words out her mouth can convince you she definitely isn’t naive. Maybe she’s just curious or bored, and Gajeel is like her science experiment. Kill off the time at the party you don’t wanna be at by studying the piercing-full dude’s psyque. She did say she liked Sherlock, and she strikes him as the smart type.

So he shrugs too. “Whatever,” he says and returns his attention to his phone.

She looks over his shoulder. “What are you playing?”

“Candy Crush,” he says, eyes never leaving the screen.

“Pff. You are _so_ outdated!”

“Hey, Candy Crush’s a classic.” He scowls, slightly offended.

“Yeah, for someone who never got over 2013.” She rolls her eyes before taking out her own phone. “Let me upgrade you. You can thank me later.”

* * *

“I’m telling you season 2’s finale was the _best_ episode of the whole show. It went downhill from there on.”

“Aren’t you just salty your ship didn’t get to be canon?”

“It’s not about the _ship_ , although the queerbaiting is bad enough as it is, thank you very much.” Shorty gesticulates excitedly while trying to convey her point. She does that a lot when she gets passionate. “Everything in that episode was so well thought out, every little cinematic decision, from the background music, to the symbols, to the camera angles, _everything_. You don’t get that kind of quality in the next episodes. The tension in the last scene with Moriarty-“

“Hey,” he cuts her off, alarmed. “Don’t spoil. I’ve already told you...”

“Yes, yes, you are on episode two, season two, sorry.” She takes a deep breath, recomposes herself and then, “ _You have to watch the finale_.”

“I know _, you’ve told me_.”

“I’d like to _restate_ my petition.”

“ _Noted_.”

She tries to bite off her smile with little results, now more comfortable around him. Gajeel smiles too. She’s sort of hyper energetic when you give free reigns. Normally, he would just walk away from the extra noise, but Gajeel’s gotta admit, she’s quite fun to be around. He _is_ having a little bit of fun talking with her, everything be damned.

Hours have passed, unnoticed. The music kept raging outside, but in here they talked about whatever they felt like and now birds are singing outside as the first rays of sun start shining. Shorty – _Levy_ – ended up catching more of his attention than Gajeel would have thought at first. He has learnt more about her during these few hours together than any other human being in the last three years. He has learnt that she is a philology major, which is another way of saying she is a high class bookworm. He has learnt that she is capable of binge watching all six Lord of the Rings movies, and she would do the same with Harry Potter if only she had all the DVDs. He has learnt that she cannot keep quiet when she doesn’t agree with one of his opinions, and that she has an unhealthy need to prove her knowledge. He has learnt that she scrunches her nose whenever he says something that unbalances her status quo, and that she can talk about Greek history and make it sound interesting and passionate, no matter how boring the subject is.

Gajeel has learnt a lot of stuff. Oddly enough, he feels like learning more.

He speaks before he thinks better of it. “We can watch it together if you’d like. I have a feeling you wouldn’t mind watching it again.” And then waits for her reaction, which is surprise if he can judge the wide-opening of her eyes correctly.

“Ah, are you for real?”

“Sure,” Gajeel shrugs and doesn’t understand why the sudden awkwardness. “I’ll text you. If you want.” And then, with a suggestive tone because he cannot stand the quiet, “Netflix and chill?”

It works because she snorts and then laughs properly. Her laugher is like that of a little bird: it chirps.

“I’ll agree,” she says with a glint in her eyes. “If you promise to do actual Netflix and no chill.”

And because he wants to listen to more musical giggles, he says with a smirk, “Oh, suddenly shy?”

“I happen to have _standards_.” Levy’s smile oozes as much arrogance as his. “And _you_ happen to meet none of them.”

“Yer damn right,” Gajeel says, remembering the chatroom game they played some hours before.  “I’m not some pansy little hacker with self-esteem problems.”

“707 is a gift to humanity if there has ever been one and I will _not_ let you insult him!”

She has lost her cool and when she realizes this, her cheeks are quick to redden like apples. And having an opportunity to tease so openly presented to him, of course Gajeel won’t let it slide.

“Aw, in love with your fictional character, shortstuff?”

But this is a misstep.

She closes on herself, legs to her chest, arms over knees, and returns to be all bitten lips and insecure side looks. Gajeel is reminded of armadillos. She mumbles words that die muffled on her forearm, making him scowl.

“What was that?” he asks.

She mumbles again, then closes her eyes, then opens them again and fixes him with steady, doe-like gaze.

“What does reality have to offer me?” Her voice doesn’t waver or break and yet, Gajeel can hear the sadness in it and it nags him. “I much rather prefer fiction. Things are much easier there.”

He realizes why it nags him: it’s loneliness. A kind of grief he knows all too well. Once again, she surprises him. He would have never opened up to a weakness such as that to anyone, much less a stranger. She’s all honesty and no walls. She could get hurt so easily like this, and Gajeel is taken aback by the sudden wave of protectiveness that invades him.

She sighs at his silence, and goes on. “Why would I ever choose reality over fiction?”

And the question is left hanging there, in front of them, growing and hogging the little bathroom. Gajeel gives it thought, because he understand this is important. She’s technically a stranger he met one night, but there’s something about talking to strangers that compels you. Makes you want to tell the truth. _Need_ to tell the truth.

“I don’t have an answer to that, Shorty.” He says, slowly, thinking each and every one of his words. “But books are fixed. Your games are programmed through. They won’t change. No matter how many times you read them, the plot will still be the same. At least in reality, you can make your own choices.”

_Like staying in a bathroom instead of leaving, and talking to a stranger even though everything inside you shies away at the idea._

She takes his words, replays them in her head. Finally, “You never gave me your name.”

The brusque detour has Gajeel off-balance for a beat, but the next second he is back, and grateful for the change of subject into one lighter and a lot less grim.

He makes a big motion of checking his phone clock and then, “Four hours talking and only now you wonder about that?”

“Hey, you forgot about it too! If anything, you are the rude one!”

“Yes, but that’s to be expected. You, on the other hand, the little smartass overseeing a mistake like that...”

“I’m not a smartass!”

“Sure ya don’t.”

“I’m not!”

“I said you weren’t.” Gajeel is having fun again. This midget might have a little masochistic streak hidden inside of her; she likes being teased. She’s flustered, but smiling too.

She pretends to be upset - “Ugh, you are impossible” – rolls her eyes, looks away. Gajeel keeps smiling and decides to be bold.

“Give me your phone.”

“Uh?”

“Your phone.” He takes her from her bony hands. “Give it to me.”

The thing doesn’t have lock screen. For some reason, this does not surprise Gajeel. He swipes it open and goes to the contact list.

“What are you doing?” She tries to look over his shoulder, but Gajeel is big and Levy is small so success isn’t within her limits.

“Here.” He hands it back. “It’s on your contact list. Look for me and you’ll have my name.”

She stares, and stares. The music is dying down outside. Now it only echoes slightly inside the bathroom. The unthinkable happens, Gajeel starts to actually get uncomfortable – _Shit did I fuck up, was it too much, does she think I’m a jerk, what am I saying I don’t care what a chick she thinks of me –._

Except that he does care and her silence is getting to his nerves.

“You are very pretentious,” she says and in turn, sends him spiralling downwards to chants of _shit, she does think I’m an asshole_ ; but then he sees the tiniest uplift of the corners of her lips and the stress in his back relaxes a bit. “But I cannot let the opportunity or re-watching Sherlock with a fellow fandom member pass.”

They look at each other. Her words sound like friendship. Gajeel can finally breathe properly now that there’s acceptance in her semblance. And yet he does it quietly. Because there’s something on the point where their gazes meet that tastes like promise and expectation, and he’d punch himself if he broke the moment.

But he doesn’t need to worry about that, because someone else breaks it for him. There’s a knock on the door; both their heads snap towards it. It opens slowly and through it, the second head of blue hair in the night shows up. She lets the party from outside crash in their safe bathroom.

“Gajeel-kun? Are you here?” Juvia asks, innocently, carefully, infuriatingly. Levy has returned to her shier self now that an intruder has stepped on their people-free safe space. Gajeel could seethe. He thinks he’s actually seething.

“Juvia, what do you want?”

She recoils and then he sees that her eyes are red tired and her makeup is smeared on the edges. He feels bad for being an asshole, and then feels bad for feeling bad.

“Uhm. I thought we could go home... Gray-sama has gone too...”

Gajeel grumbles something and stands up but then Juvia takes in the situation and her demeanour gives a 180° spin.

“Oh! But Juvia can wait! She’s not interrupting anything, is she?”

“No,” they both say at the same time and then look at each other. The silence lasts a heartbeat, and then Levy is standing up too, all fast movements and nervous giggles.

“I’m Levy, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Juvia. Nice meeting you too!”

“We will get going,” Gajeel says. And then, to Levy, “Do you have a ride home?”

“I’m staying at the house. The owner is my friend.”

Gajeel’s eyebrows shot up. “That blonde chick? She your friend?”

“Yes, her name is Lucy. Don’t worry about me.”

She says this while blushing and suddenly Gajeel wishes Juvia wasn’t here.

“I’ll text you,” he says instead of the more flirtatious goodbye he had thought about.

This has her smiling, not a bashful grin but the confident smirks she was giving him earlier. “No, I’ll text _you_. You don’t have my number, _Gajeel_.”

“How do you know my name?” he says before it dawns, so obvious. “Right, Juvia said it.”

All that rogue acting gone to waste. He wants to be angry at Juvia again.

“Don’t worry. I won’t keep you waiting _that_ long.”

“I take it you won’t give me your phone number.”

“Nope,” she says happily.

“Gajeel-kun?” Juvia, the official third-wheel, asks awkwardly.

“Right, right, let’s go.”

“Good night,” Levy says and climbs up his bicep to kiss his cheek.

Wow. And Gajeel thought he had been bold.

“Good night midget.” He smiles. “Go find a room and get some sleep.”

The party is dying when the cross the house again. Not that many drunk people, and lots of papers and sticky liquids on the floor. Juvia is sober enough to drive. Gajeel stomachs the ride all while standing Juvia’s excited remarks. He deserves a medal. When he gets home to his studio apartment he makes a beeline to his bed, and falls there.

On his bedside table, among forgotten glasses and garbage, his phone screen twinkles. _I won’t keep you waiting that long_.

Gajeel closes his eyes, wonders when the fuck he become so soft, and right before falling asleep he decides he doesn’t care.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews water my crops, feed my children and clean my skin. Please consider leaving some if you liked it! 
> 
> Also, I have a [tumblr](olie-golden-wolf.tumblr.com)


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